Obsidian Butterfly
by Orenji Kaniku
Summary: Hermione opens an herb shop. Luna uses a butterfly as a metaphor for Snape. Luna has a daughter? The best way to catch an Obsidian Butterfly is to use a net, so Luna says. CHAPTER 2 UP!
1. Chapter One

**Title**: Obsidian Butterfly  
**Author**: Orenji Kaniku  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: Strong language, sensuality, crude humor, and drug references  
**Notes**: The title Obsidian Butterfly is courtesy of Laurell K. Hamilton. I strongly recommend her Anita Blake novels. (I read OB first before realizing they were a series!)  
I also want to thank my beta: Aureus Flosculus!  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter!

**_Chapter One_**  
  
_"You know it ain't easy  
For these thoughts to leave me  
There're no words to describe it In French or in English  
'Cause diamonds they fade  
And flowers they bloom  
And I'm telling you  
These feelings won't go away."_ - Santana (feat. Citizen Cope), Sideways  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
(1997)  
  
This would be the very last day she would ever have to look into Professor Snape's cold black eyes and see regret etched deeply inside. Usually, that was all he ever needed to make her feel like she was the most hideous thing on the face of the planet. Seventh year came quickly despite sixth year, which had indeed caused her to wish she could jump off the Astronomy Tower.  
  
Hermione Granger, who had at one time possessed very large teeth, flashed a seemingly perfect smile Professor Snape's way. It was her way of defying his icy exterior with her newfound self-confidence. Over the years of physical activity, she held the beautifully sculpted body of a dancer. The Hogwarts era of her life brought many changes not only to her, but also to her peers. Harry Potter was no longer a half-starved adolescent, thanks to many strenuous Quidditch practices for the Quidditch House Cup, which stimulated a large appetite. Ron Weasley was a tall, dashing young man, until he opened his mouth, that is. The list went on as she studied her classmates.  
  
"I'd like to know what you find so incredibly gay, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape's velvet voice caused her to jump; she had not been expecting a response from him, as she had been silently hoping for. Ron quietly laughed and repeated 'gay' under his breath.  
  
"I don't find anything in particular _gay_, Professor Snape," Hermione said, trying to keep her mouth's curve to a minimum, while noting that his fists were clenching at his sides in sheer irritation.  
  
"Are you aware that there is more than one meaning for the term 'gay', Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione nodded and looked Snape in the eyes. "Yes, Professor, are you?" Ron couldn't stand it any longer; he let his laughter out in a long howl before beating his hand on the table. Harry's shoulders were shaking, he snorted and Ron shrieked once more. Hermione gave a helpless giggle and she shrugged. "Detention at seven after dinner? Right then."  
  
Professor Snape clenched his jaw and snapped his wand against the blackboard, causing a few students to jump in their seats.  
  
Severus Snape found it all the more enticing; the Gryffindor bookworm had finally managed to find the outlaw within her soul. Unfortunately it happened to be at his downfall. He knew his feelings towards the girl were not at all appropriate, and that was entirely the reason why he had let her behavior slip for the past two years. He did not want to be in the same room alone with her again and risk something far worse than he had done already.  
  
He overlooked her fluttering hand once more in class last year. He knew Hermione had the correct answer waiting for him, but he had no desire to let her teach his class when she was only a sixteen year old girl. She was only a know-it-all child with wild hair and previously shrunken teeth, but what a lovely child she was.  
  
"Professor Snape? I'm here to serve my detention." Hermione Granger had not knocked, but invited herself in as if she were Luna Lovegood, who believed that everyone should share their possessions for the benefit of personal karma.  
  
"Miss Granger, I am interested in understanding why you have chosen to act up in my presence, while I have spoken to your other teachers to learn that they find you a complete angel." Snape flicked his wand in her direction with a stiff flick of his wrist.  
  
"Isn't it obvious?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" His heart was beating quickly and it made him feel nauseous. _She's a student. She's a student. She's a student._  
  
He almost cursed out loud when he pointed out to himself that she was a full adult of seventeen and was graduating in less than twenty-four hours.  
  
Hermione grinned and took her place at the chair in front of his desk. She fingered a roll of parchment, while her brown eyes studied the smoothly shaven lines of his face. Her tongue moistened the plump flesh that he wanted to taste so eagerly. He would have bet his own wand that she tasted like the apple turnover she had had for dessert. It was what she always ate for dessert. Not that he paid any attention to what she ate day after day.  
  
"Professor Snape, have I ever given you any reason to put me in detention?"  
  
"Yes, countless times."  
  
"Then why is this only the first punishment?" Hermione wasn't just teasing him now, she was probing.  
  
"You have served your time, Miss Granger. No doubt that being in the same room with me after dinner has left you feeling quite ill. You've exhibited your rash adolescent behavior for the last time. Good day to you."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth quickly, then thought better of it as the Potions Master turned his back on her with an aggravated look upon his face. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm going to do after Hogwarts?" Hermione never was the one to keep her mouth shut.  
  
Snape had given this some thought. She and Professor Sprout had come in to his office for the past three years, taking a few of his supplies and disappearing with enthusiastic thank-yous. Of course he wondered what they had been doing with his ingredients. "Yes, yes, I suppose so."  
  
"I'm going back to Muggle England to get a business degree and open my own shop; I'm going to sell remedies to help Muggles." She leaned back in her chair with a proud look on her face."And it's not against the wizarding law, Professor Sprout and I looked ourselves. It's going to be a completely mutual business."  
  
The man nodded and sat on his desk with his fingers interlaced over his kneecap."Yes, I suppose that is a respectful career."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave an impatient sigh. "Honestly Professor," She took his hand and smiled when he flinched away causing her to grip tighter. "Calm down. When did you hurt yourself?"  
  
Professor Snape looked at his hand in Hermione's soft palm. Hagrid's damn dog had got a hold him when he involuntarily had come to the giant's house, bringing him soup and Poppy's cold remedy. He hated dogs, especially Fang.  
  
Hermione pulled a little vile filled with a salve from her bag. Snape's hand felt the burning of her flesh through the cool gel that she applied to his wound. "You can't just use your wand, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione smiled, despite the malice in his voice. "You can have it. If you use Madam Pomfrey's technique, I'll be quite disappointed in you. It's what a Muggle would use and I know if I were to use a wand there would be hysteria and I'd be on my way to a wizard prison. It's comfrey, my grand mum used to give it to me all the time when I was a child." Her fingers lingered longer than necessary. "Slab it on when you feel a bit of pain. Good as new in about a week and remember to keep it bandaged. A closed wound heals faster than an open one."  
  
Snape gave a barley noticeable curve of his mouth. "You may go now, Miss Granger."  
  
"You're welcome," she said in a playful tone. Snape had been grateful to her, but he didn't know how to express it with anything but a grunt, hoping she'd understand. Hermione stopped at the door and cleared her throat before saying, "I don't get ill when I'm around you. In fact, I really quite like it. You should know this by now."

--------------------------  
  
(2003)  
  
Hermione jerked awake as she felt the rough sandpaper of a familiar tongue on her cheek. "Crookshanks, you beast! Five more minutes, I swear." The fact was that she had been saying that for the past hour and would have to neglect a shower and breakfast until she opened the shop downstairs. She had slept in her wrap-around skirt and tank top without taking her hair down from the two pens that held her thick hair up and was instantly irate when she discovered she had marked her bed.  
  
"Bugger," Hermione grabbed the large ginger cat and slammed her palm on the alarm clock that had just gone off. She jumped when a clap of thunder echoed through the brick confines of her building. Crookshanks jumped from her arms and ran underneath her bed.  
  
Hermione grabbed her black cardigan and glided down the smooth stair railing. There wasn't anyone waiting at her door that Sunday morning due to the rain. She smiled as she sprayed peppermint oil in every corner of the room and finally ending ritually in the middle. It brought her peace, because when she went to Professor Snape's office in the dungeons that last day of seventh year she had noticed a bowl of peppermints lying on his desk, his favorite candy.  
  
The rain was falling, as it had been the day she and her friends had all met Remus Lupin. Hermione picked up Crookshanks by his under arms and kissed his pink nose. "Aren't you glad you're inside, Crookshanks?" The cat gave an ill-mannered meow and set off in search for a comfortable place to sleep. She set out new herbal remedies and turned on the sign that read: OPEN, the neon light Harry purchased for her grand opening day, which changed from a hot pink to an electric tangerine.  
  
By noon, Hermione was so bored she had made hand puppets out of paper bags and was performing a play for her cat. She almost shrieked with glee when the bell rang, signaling her that a customer had arrived. "Yes! What can I help you-" She almost choked when she looked into the constantly dreaming eyes of Luna Lovegood.  
  
"It's most fascinating, Hermione! The smells are incredible! Absolutely delicious! What's this?" Luna took a small vile in her hands and took a big whiff. "Oooh!"  
  
"It's opium, Luna." Hermione grabbed the vial and placed it back on the shelf. Despite her outwardly expression, she was very glad to have someone from her past finally stop by. "Oh my! You're soaking wet!" Hermione had noticed the puddle beneath Luna's feet and grabbed her cardigan. "You're going to catch cold. Let me get some tea and towels."  
  
Luna shook her long hair free of most of the water and wiped the rivulets from her face while she gazed around the room. It was painted a light autumn color with leaves stuck to the wall and candles lit all around. In all honesty, she thought that Hermione would have made a wonderful Divination teacher, what with her candles, long flowing hair, and wrap around skirts. She would have given Professor Trelawney a run for her money.  
  
Hermione came back with the towels and immediately set to work drying Luna's hair. The blonde smiled and closed her eyes, enjoying being taken care of. "I came to tell you that he was on his way."  
  
"He?" Hermione stopped drying, causing Luna to frown and grab the towel herself and work at her hair.  
  
"He is the unsolvable riddle. The honey in the bee. The rainbow in the bleak grey sky." Luna sighed with bliss and began to dance around the store alone until she grabbed a broom and bowed. "May I have this dance?" She hummed an unrecognizable tune and twirled. Hermione watched Luna's long stringy blonde hair create a complete circle around her.  
  
"Do you mean-"  
  
"Absolutely, positively, incredibly and completely!" Luna said, dipping the broom. Hermione arched an eyebrow; only she would be the one to dip a male partner even if it were an impersonating broomstick.  
  
"Oh my-" Hermione touched her unwashed hair and lifted her black tank top to her nose. "I haven't been able to wash! Luna, please watch the store for me! If anyone wishes to buy something... I don't know... are you familiar with English money?" Luna nodded. "Thank you, dear! I'll be down in thirty minutes."  
  
Luna watched Hermione dash up the stairs and smiled to herself. "Muggle money. I'm sure I'll know what it is when I see it."  
  
Hermione had put her hair up in a messy bun held together with her two favorite pens and donned an Indian silk skirt with the usual black tank top. She wore the wintergreen oil to wane away any headaches that were sure to come with the stress of Severus Snape arriving to her store. Her heart felt like it would leap from her chest.  
  
_Just breathe._  
  
She was expecting Severus to be standing in front of her desk counter, trying to dry his black hair in vain while studying the various things she had to offer in her store, but found Luna punching buttons into the cash register.  
  
"Luna! Stop, you'll break it!" Hermione tripped over her untied sandal and caught herself on the edge of the counter. "Bloody hell." The bell rang, and the last thing she wanted at all was for someone to come in at such an inconvenient time. "What is it?!"  
  
"What a professional way to greet new coming customers, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione's head snapped up and she couldn't hide the happiness she felt. She bit her lip and ran to hug her previous professor tightly before he had a chance to drop her ginger cat on the floor. Crookshanks gave a winded meow and Severus Snape stood so rigid that Hermione swore he had been Petrified. He pushed her gently away and cleared his voice. "Calm down, you silly girl."  
  
"What brings you here, Severus?" Hermione asked, dismissing the disapproval in Severus's voice.  
  
"I thought I might like to see how my _student_ was doing out in the real world."  
  
"_Previous_ student, Severus," Hermione chided. She couldn't contain the laughter boiling up within her. His face turned into a deeper scowl every time she said his name. "If your face gets stuck like that it will not be my fault, Severus."  
  
"Honestly, girl!"  
  
Hermione laughed, tilting her head back to flash her white throat before his eyes, hoping he might touch her in some way. Luna Lovegood was leaning against the register with a pen resting above her lip with a smile on her face, there wasn't a better pawn of Fate than she in all of England.  
  
_**To Be Continued....**_


	2. Chapter Two

**Title**: Obsidian Butterfly  
**Author**: Orenji Kaniku  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Warnings**: Strong language, sensuality, crude humor  
**Notes**: I want to thank Liger, Meriadoc / Celithrathien, and Batling for reviewing! All your nice comments really made my day.  
Also, my beta, Aureus Flosculus. . . you totally rock man.

**_Chapter Two_**  
  
_"How can I forget you,  
Disregard how I feel,  
Silently listen,  
To the words I can't see."-_ Portishead, Seven months  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
(1996)  
  
She couldn't pretend that she didn't imagine what Professor Snape looked like underneath all of his clothes. His eyes were what made her want to take his head into her bosom comfortingly and just be there for him. She was chewing on the end of her quill thoughtfully when he called on her.  
  
"Miss Granger, maybe you are so confident of your skills in my classroom that you cannot pay attention. Five seconds . . . what is the most powerful truth serum available?" He narrowed his eyes quizzically, wondering if he could intimidate the Gryffindor genius. She'd been staring off in to space since the beginning of the year and it was getting on his very last nerve. Longbottom had broken yet another vial of crushed snake fangs and he couldn't get Draco, Potter, and Weasley to stop harassing each other with hexes when they suspected he was not watching.  
  
Hermione looked into his eyes and stuttered. "Uh, ver-" She shook her head and furrowed her brow, trying to remember the potion she knew she had read in a book somewhere. She shut her eyes. She had read tons of books; there had to be the right answer in there somewhere! _Answers don't just disappear into thin air!_  
  
Harry, beside her, was shuffling his notes and whispered, "Veritaserum."  
  
"Time, Miss Granger. Haven't got an answer for me today? Don't have your hand shot up in the air waving it like a lunatic now do you, Miss Granger? Does my class bore you so completely now that you have chosen not to bury yourself in my potions books?"  
  
"Why are you being so mean?" Hermione whispered.  
  
Professor Snape ignored her, "Start your work on the potions we've been going over, class. There will be no talking or horseplay of any kind -- Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter." Hermione watched him as he proceeded to his desk and sat down to grade papers with furious strokes of his infamous red quill. Harry took her by the elbow and gently led her to their cauldron.  
  
Hermione knew she had to get this over with and tell him. She had the feeling she was getting obsessed. It was interfering with her schoolwork. She knew he wasn't as bad as everyone else had him out to be. In fact, Professor Snape was a very fit man. She admired him for shutting him off from the rest of the world, but at the same time she pitied him. What damage could loneliness bring upon even the strongest of people?  
  
She went over her speech five times before she knocked softly at the door of Snape's office, and when he muttered, "Yes, what is it?" she opened the door just enough for her to squeeze in and shut it behind her. He looked up from his desk and barley kept his cool exterior. "What?"  
  
Hermione stared at her feet as she made her way to the chair in front of his desk and sat stiffly while she fiddled with the end of her robes. "Yes, a surprise. Um, Professor, I-" She had forgotten her speech that she had scribbled on parchment in her robe pocket on the way to the dungeons after dinner and she wasn't about to whip it out and recite it like a Shakespearean lady. Harry and Ron thought she was talking to Professor McGonagall. She felt bad for lying, but she felt that the privacy of the matter was not only hers in this situation.  
  
Snape stared at her and leaned back in his seat. It was most amusing, what could possibly be wrong with this silly girl? He watched her face redden with embarrassment before she whispered something he barley heard, and once he deciphered the meaning of her hushed words, he wasn't so sure he was lucky to have heard them in the first place.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"I'm attracted to you," she repeated, still staring at the floor. She bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut, and lowered her head down on the edge of his desk hard enough to make him jump.  
  
"Sorry?" Snape asked, leaning forward.  
  
"Damnit, don't make me say it a third time! I know I shouldn't have these feelings, but I do and I was supposed to be rid of it when I came to tell you but I find myself wishing that you would just take me in your arms and kiss me," Hermione murmured into her arm. She knew she would regret this, but she felt lighter and lighter as the words left her heart.  
  
"Are you aware that I'm twenty years your senior?" Snape asked quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his cushioned chair. In all honesty, he didn't know what he was supposed to do. He wanted to send her away, be as mean as possible to get her away from him, but he didn't want her to go.  
  
"Erm . . . yes?"  
  
"You can't answer a question with another question, Miss Granger," Snape said softly, staring at the tip of her head, which was still on his desk. "You don't find our age difference a bit unnerving?"  
  
"No, sir." Hermione shook her head. Snape smiled, actually smiled, at the shyness in the girl before him. He had to admit that she had grown up rather well. He shook his head and sighed; the professor in him was telling him, "You can't possibly have a relationship with this girl. She's your student." The man in him whispered, "You haven't touched a woman in years. What the bloody hell are you waiting for?" He could see them both on either side of his shoulders, arguing like devil and angel, though he could not figure out which one was which at the moment. They were driving him mad.  
  
"Look at me," Snape ordered gently. Hermione lifted her head so that she could rest her chin upon his desk with a cautious expression. "Hermione Jane Granger, there are so many reasons why this is wrong."  
  
"I can give you an equal amount on why it is right." She almost kicked herself right there. _I sound like I'm quoting from a goddamn romance novel._  
  
Snape got up from his desk and took her arm, pulling her from the chair to lead her to the door. The man in him was winning. Oh, it was winning and he didn't like it at all. Well, the professor didn't like it; the other half liked it just fine. Snape shook his head in an attempt to ward out his intrapersonal battle. He was getting irate.  
  
Hermione tiptoed and brushed her lips against Snape's. They both gasped and stiffened.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Hermione gasped and backed away, but before she had a chance to make a mad dash out of the room, Snape pulled her against his robes. They stared at each other, both afraid to make the first move, until she kissed him on the chin and again on the mouth.  
  
She kissed him. Snape had only imagined what the lips of a woman would feel like against his, and he had never thought to consider the fact that they would be feathery soft. She let her hands roam up his back and through his unwashed hair. It didn't matter how many clothes he was wearing, he could feel her hands through his robes and underclothes as if he were wearing only a thin cotton layer. He pressed his lips harder against hers and followed her as she moved them to his desk.  
  
"I'm not a good kisser," Hermione said as she eased his back onto the desk over parchment and unused quills. He was not a very organized person.  
  
"You're doing fine." Snape nuzzled her neck, sending chills down to her toes and gooseflesh rising on her skin. She moaned softly and nipped at his ear. Snape let his hands sneak under her robes and beneath her uniform. They both jerked away when Hermione cried out. "You should go. This was wrong. I'm sorry for touching you, Miss Granger." Snape panted, combing a hand through his hair.  
  
Hermione wanted to tell him that she liked it, but nodded, touching her stomach where his warmth still lingered on her skin. He was looking at her with such disgust that she wished she could crumple into her robes and disappear. "But-."  
  
"Get out!"  
  
She bit her lip to taste what was left of Snape on her mouth and dashed from the room, almost unable to stop the tears from running down her eyes. If she was going to cry, it was going to be in the safety of her own room with a silencing charm. 

-------------------------  
  
(2003)  
  
Luna Lovegood sighed and slouched over the counter and sipped at a cup of promised orange tea. "My mother once told me after I kissed our next door neighbor's son on the mouth, 'If you truly love something and let it go, and it comes back to you that it was truly meant to be yours.' It's kind of like a butterfly."  
  
Both Hermione and Severus had turned their full attention to the blonde, equally gobsmacked. Severus wanted to tell her to shut her mouth, but recalled that during his time with her, she'd been known to say thought provoking things.  
  
"Have you ever noticed that the sight of a butterfly on the finger of a friend or stranger is extremely rare, almost unheard of?"  
  
Hermione and Severus looked at each other.  
  
"Well, what say you? It wasn't a rhetorical question."  
  
"I don't Adam and Eve this," Severus sighed, turning for the door.  
  
"Don't leave," Hermione said, with an edge of panic in her voice. She had waited years for him to come into her door, and when he finally came, Luna was driving him away with her malarkey.  
  
"Yes, please don't leave. I'm not through yet. You don't even have to answer the question!" Luna said, using a set of chopsticks to perfectly match her words with. She was making the whole story up for the benefit of both Hermione and Severus, because they were both smart people, if not a bit slow when it came to their feelings. "Okay," She started again once Severus leaned against a shelf of salves. "Love is like a butterfly. When you let the butterfly go and it comes back, it was truly meant to be yours. It's funny though, because I've never seen a person with a lovely butterfly perched upon their shoulders as if it were a parrot." Luna was twirling a piece of her long blonde hair thoughtfully. "It's rare that a butterfly, or love, would come back to the one that let it go; they usually die first or become lost."  
  
Hermione and Severus looked at each other, and back to Luna, who cleared her throat loudly and grabbed a newspaper. "Well! I'm off to Diagon Alley to pick up a new pair of robes from Madam Malkin's. Nice to see you again, Severus. I love the shop, Hermione. Bye then!" Luna smiled and skipped out of the shop with a newspaper over her head to shield from the rain that had dwindled to a soft shower.  
  
"Would you like a tour?" Hermione asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence. Severus wore his usual black robes. He always did look good in black. She took his arm, dismissed his frigidness, and led him around the tables of powders and oils to the shelves of various books and pamphlets. Before Hermione could ask anything of him a short old woman with a large black handbag walked in and smiled at her. "Mrs. Underwood, how is your arthritis?" She grabbed her reading glasses from the counter and took the old woman by the hand. Severus lingered to the back of the store. Hermione had always been a people person, something he never really understood, but secretly highly admired.  
  
Mrs. Underwood smiled sweetly and clutched Hermione's hand in her own. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Grandmum or at least my first name you daft child? Now, where is Crookshanks, dear?"  
  
"I actually have no clue. . . ." Hermione said slowly while turning around to scan the store. She called his name thrice before shaking her head, dismissing the cat altogether. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Erm . . . alfalfa, willow bark, and aloe vera," Mrs. Underwood read off of a list she had produced from her pink jumper pocket. "And a bit of that lovely green tea if you have any more left."  
  
"Run out already? You need to cut down on the alfalfa; if you need to go to the doctor again I'll pay for it," Hermione said gently as she tried to reach the willow bark on the top shelf. Severus sighed and made his way to the shelf and grabbed the vial. "Wrong one. Left, other left. Thank you, sir."  
  
After Mrs. Underwood left with her herbs and a box of green tea, two young ladies had walked in followed by a rather skittish bloke. The rain had finally ended, bringing in a swarm of customers. Severus was quite enjoying the run-around Hermione was going through. He had to let himself barge into her living quarters after watching her play with a customer's child. He didn't realize how tired he was until he sat on her couch and fell asleep, inhaling peppermint oils and listening to her laughter downstairs.

------------------------------  
  
(2000)  
  
Hermion's favorite customer was an old short woman with white hair and black glasses with thick frames, they were old-fashioned but they looked natural on her. There were many wrinkles on her kindly old face but it was what Hermione thought made the woman so pleasant to look at. Each wrinkle had sort of a personality of its own.  
  
When she first opened the shop Mrs. Underwood had been the very first customer and it had been on pure mistake, for she had thought it was the stationary store that had been there the year before. They began to have afternoon tea and then confiding to the old woman seemed only natual, she reminded her of Professor McGonagall at times with her sharp intellect and kind nature.  
  
One afternoon when they were out on the roof underneath a floral umbrella with Earl Grey tea and fresh scones baked personally by Mrs. Underwood, she cleared her throat delicately and smiled, "Hermione dear, do you have someone you fancy? Why don't you date?"  
  
At this inquiry, Hermione choked on her tea, scalding her throat and coughed violently. Mrs. Underwood tensed, but refrained from patting her on the back. She wasn't going to die.  
  
"Alright then, drink your brew before it gets cold!"  
  
"Young lady, don't you dare try to change the subject. I have had many children and they have had many children. I will not let you get out of this conversation just because you're not technically my child," It was true, Mrs. Underwood thought of Hermione as her surrogate daughter. She had even gone to Mr. Underwood's funeral last fall and that had meant more to her than anything she could ever think of.  
  
"Sorry Nora," Hermione began her story about Severus Snape, Hogwarts, Harry and Ron, and the whole wizarding world in that whole afternoon. It was dusk when she had finally ended with what had happened graduation night. They had both missed dinner and their stomachs were growling.  
  
"Well, well. I do say that it sounds to me that you're not just caught in a fancy," Hermione stopped gathering their empty dishes from the cold table and gave the woman she loved so dearly a suspicious look. "Old-fashioned love, my sweet. " She pat Hermione's smooth young skin and winked, "When you wait for someone that long it's either fear or love."  
  
"Fear? Fear of what?" Hermione was very curious because in a matter of speaking she was afraid of Snape in the sense that he would never leave her alone, or that he would. In her mind he was there waiting for her to liven up her dreams at night. Sometimes she woke up uncomfortable in the middle of the night and wonder what was wrong with her. Did girls in their twenties really fantasize over men twice their age? Grumpy men twice their age?  
  
Mrs. Underwood adjusted her black dress and folded her hands over her large belly, smiling and giving Hermione the impression of a bear. "Fear of moving on and losing that image of perfection of which you grew so comfortable with. I've seen his picture, the one where he scowling and making a potion?"  
  
Hermione laughed and nodded, reaching back into a drawer and pulling out the still moving picture. Severus was frowning at a vial of a very nasty looking potion which bubbled and fizzed madly, it obviously wasn't what he had wanted in the first place. No potion to her knowledge bubbled and fizzed with quite that much enthusiasm. Potions Master, pff!  
  
"I asked the headmaster, Dumbledore to take this one for me. He has this little invisible network all around the school that takes pictures for our year books. You've seen most of them,"  
  
"I always wondered how you had such good shots in there."  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
"Always!" Mrs. Underwood pat her belly and smiled, just like a bear indeed. Hermione, who was glad to get the subject away from Severus, took out her best cooking ware and set to work while listening to Mrs. Underwood complain about the next door neighbors who insisted that she teach their daughter how to play the piano. Among the many things the old woman was good at, it was the piano. Best in the Muggle world and maybe even the Wizarding world.

-----  
  
Severus burst into the classroom, immediately demanding silence due to the dull ache that his head had set itself in. Be it the lack of sleep or the odd meal scheduele he wasn't sure of, but it was tearing his very last nerve. He took roll with a quick sweep of his black eyeballs and frowned when his most mischevious Ravenclaw sat there with a faint smile on her face and no essay infront of her as her classmates had so obediently made sure to place infront of them.  
  
"Miss Voight, where is your paper?"  
  
"Ravenclaw girl's dormitory, in my room by the bed, on the nightstand next to my two books on Muggle artifacts, underneath my favorite nightlamp-"  
  
"Enough!" Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a glare that even Voldemort would have been proud of, "Why don't you have it?"  
  
"Forgot."  
  
"But you know where it is?"  
  
"Exactly, but you didn't let me finish-"  
  
"I don't wish to hear anymore of your ridiculous malarkey, Miss Granger." He winced and regretted it the instant he said it.  
  
"Sir-"  
  
"EVERYONE GET TO WORK ON A RANDOM POTION. IMMEDIATELY!" Severus barked. Almost straight away he had wished he had an Exploding Fluid right in hand. Stupid daftness! Of course Miss Voight didn't bring back the heated arguments he and Hermione had during classes over her work and why he always chose to pick on Neville and almost murderously harassed Harry, her best friend. "Miss Voight, detention after dinner. If you're late, you will serve all week."  
  
Dreams about the graduated Gryffindor made him nervous to sleep at night. They were so realistic that he felt sometimes he would wake up making love to a cold wall instead of a warm curvacious body. So, he prowled the halls in search of students out of bed. She was a newborn by the time he was twenty! The cliche, "Love knows no age." was probably written by a flock of foolish and fancy-strucken teenagers who didn't know what the hell they were talking about or getting themselves into if that quote was written from personal experience.  
  
Maybe they were just one of the lucky ones.  
  
Why after all this time was he still thinking about her? What was it about her lips that made him wish that he didn't scare her in his office that night during her sixth year? He was trying to be logical about this and push her away but that didn't seem to work.  
  
"Can't sleep, Severus?"  
  
The man jumped and whirled around, his loose robes twirling around him like a protective wave over an invisible lover. "Dumbledore?"  
  
"Cheers." The man smiled, making him look at least twenty years younger. No wonder he was always cheerful. Severus thought about giving it a try but then he reconsidered. He had no one to impress.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I'm concerned for you. Is something the matter?"  
  
"Absolutely not."  
  
"Sleeping draught?"  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and rested his elbows on the railing to stare down at the moving staircases. His eyes followed each staircase from it's first home to the second destination. "Do you notice how the staircase always goes back to where it was in the very beginning?"  
  
"Please just answer my question straightforward for once, Albus. My head hurts and I miss her." Severus growled at his foul-up and turned to leave.  
  
"Severus don't leave unless you want to be stunned. I know that would be the only way you would stay to listen to me." Dumbledore said the last sentence with a touch of sadness. It always got him what he wanted because everyone was so loyal and loved him so much that no one could help but give the old man what he wanted. The old man who loved sweets so very much. "Why must you have to be so stubborn, even to yourself?"  
  
"Because it's a feeling that I don't desearve."  
  
"Everyone desearves love-"  
  
"I never said anything about love, Albus."  
  
Dumbledore's smile grew even wider, "You didn't have to."  
  
"What do you-"  
  
The headmaster cleared his throat loudly, not leaving any room for interruption, "As I was saying about the staircases, Severus, they always go back to where they were in the beginning no matter how far they tend to stray from where they were originally built."  
  
"They're magical staircases, Albus."  
  
The old man carried on as if he'd never been interrupted. Severus hated being ignored. "The Greeks believed that there was no male being or a female being. They thought that when you found the other half of your soul, that person would be the perfect lover." Severus began to blush. "Right then, I think you should see Poppy and take a spot of Sleeping Draught if the dreams are bothering you so."  
  
"How the-"  
  
"Carry on!"  
  
Severus was seething. He stood there in the dark with his fists clenched so tightly that when he let go he could feel where his fingernails were dug into the skin. It hurt to take them out. He respected Albus Dumbledore, he really did but there were times, like these, that he wished he could give him a good hexing.  
  
Did any of this really matter?  
  
Did he really care or was he so lonely that he was bringing back memories of a past romance, if you could call it that, to give him a good pleasure every now and then?

-------------------------  
  
(2003)  
  
Hermione sighed, locked the door, and turned off the lights. Turning in early in the evening usually left her for an early day but it was how she liked it. She dragged herself up the stairs and flung herself over her table in the small kitchen with a frustrated sigh.  
  
"Tired?" Hermione screamed and fell over the side of the table onto the cold tile floor. Severus cursed and ran into the kitchen. He couldn't see where she had fallen because it was a moonless night and she had failed to turn on the lights when she entered, interrupting his deep sleep. "Miss Granger?"  
  
"Jesus Christ!"  
  
"Does that mean you're okay?" He asked, arching a brow into the direction of her voice even though he knew she couldn't possibly see it.  
  
"It means I'm absobloodylutely fantastic!" She groaned in pain, and while trying to reach for the switch on the wall, she knocked over a glass of water. "Shite!"  
  
"Graceful," Severus commented with a smile. He'd seen her dance on one occasion when he had walked into an abandoned tower to stretch his legs after grading a mountain of papers. He liked to watch the owls come onto school grounds with parchment tied to their legs over the invisible curves of the wind guiding them as though by a leash to safety. She was graceful always when he saw her; now she was an absolute mess and he didn't know why he had an urge to help her up into his arms and dry her with a towel.  
  
"Shut up!" Hermione rubbed her head and shivered with cold as she finally touched the prized outlet and flicked on the light. "I forgot you were up here. I was so tired and it just slipped my mind." Wet ringlets of her brown hair clung to the side of her cheek, teasing him unintentionally. Surely a woman wouldn't go through the physical hazards to have a man swoop to her rescue. No, this was a feminist age he was living in and he didn't like it in the least. At one minute they were warm and pliant in his hands. . . in a man's hand, and in the next they were cursing a man's language of: SHITE!, FUCK!, ARSEWIPE!, DYKE!, and many other words that he had not said himself but surely heard the students uttering under their breaths. A lady was taught in his day to be polite, quiet unless spoken to, and a faithful woman, and she certainly didn't chase after the man.  
  
Severus nodded, trying to keep his eyes above her chest. She was cold and wet. He shouldn't have come at all, not if he was going to think about things that he shouldn't be thinking in the first place. "Maybe I should go."  
  
"No!" Hermione grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye. "You just got here, and I've been too busy with customers. I'm sorry, the shop is closed tomorrow. Sunday is a holy day in the world of Muggles. Do you have a place to stay?"  
  
"No, I-"  
  
"Stay here. You can conjure the couch into a mattress." Hermione patted the couch as she strode by.  
  
"Miss Granger-"  
  
"Hermione!" She shrieked, causing him to jump. She smirked and tried to hold in a giggle until she cleared her throat and looked at him with a grave look upon her face. "Why are you really here?"  
  
"You've got a bump on your head," Severus whispered, kneeling and taking her head into his hands to inspect the wound. She didn't pull away as he thought she would; she merely asked again. She watched his coal black eyes sweep over her skin and linger over her lips before he cleared his throat and turned away. "I don't know. Ah, I didn't want to come, but I did. I couldn't keep myself away."  
  
"Well I daresay that it has been what, six years?" Hermione counted on her fingers and nodded, confirming her calculation. "Are you going to let me touch you?" Severus winced before he nodded. "You don't have to say yes-"  
  
"I nodded."  
  
"It looked painful."  
  
"It was."  
  
"I have herbs downstairs for that. Free of charge," Hermione said, grinning. "Or should I take you to a hospital?"  
  
"Merlin, no!"  
  
"Then what's all the fuss about? You can't let yourself be loved by anyone? Always have your guard up like the bloody Azkaban fortress."  
  
"I'm not-"  
  
"Bollocks!" She grabbed a brown bottle from the refrigerator. "Do you want one?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Ale, Severus. It's an ale," She thought for a moment and laughed. "I don't think you've had ale, have you? You look more of a wine bloke to me." She slid the brown bottle towards Severus, who caught it with both hands and watched her open it at the side of the table which he had noticed had a chunk of wood missing.  
  
She didn't know why she felt so cold inside. The cogs in her brain were trying to go backward when she wanted them to go forward. She, Harry, and Ron usually had drink binges on Saturday evenings. She grabbed the phone and dialed Harry's mobile. "I'll just be a moment," she said, before immediately saying, "Harry! Hey, not tonight . . . nothing's wrong. Yes, the cat's still alive." She laughed and cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, head cocked to one side.  
  
Severus smiled and sat at the table, his own ale unopened. He didn't want to damage her table even though it seemed to have a chunk taken out at each side for the simple task of opening an ale. _How very cosmopolitan_. He studied her home from his seat. The place was warm, but cluttered with novels, notebooks, herbal dictionaries, and magic studies. Severus reached across the table and grabbed the first book his fingers made contact with: Leonardo da Vinci's Notebooks, definitive Edition in One Volume. He arched a brow and flipped to the very first page, which held a picture of a rather sad old man, which reminded him very much of Dumbledore when he was lost in thought. The page was entitled, _Self-Portrait_, yet it was not creative or nearly looking finished at all.  
  
He grunted and tossed the book back on the table away from him, staring at it as if it would bite his fingers off.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, sitting next to him and leaning over to look at what book he had been looking at.  
  
"It's not 'what', it's 'pardon' or 'sorry?'. And it's this da Vinci bloke. He's vile."  
  
"Well I can't imagine why. He's been dead for quite some time now, Severus. What could he have possibly done to get your knickers in a twist?"  
  
"He didn't complete this piece and he's going to call it a portrait? What kind of person would leave such a thing unfinished and dare to take credit for it? Surely the man has no pride in who he is?" Severus, at this moment, was getting very much into his patronization of the dead Renaissance artist, started to rise from his seat and clasp his hands behind his back as he had done when Hermione was in his class.  
  
"It's a goddamn sketch, Severus."  
  
"And he's recognized for a goddamn sketch?"  
  
"Yes, he's recognized! He's a well respected artist of the -- no!" She grabbed his hand and moved the book away with the other. "No distractions! I want to talk about us."  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and looked into his eyes. "Don't 'sorry' me, Severus. Did I disappoint you when we first-"  
  
"You cried out, Miss-"  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
Severus jumped and grabbed the bottle of ale from her hand while juggling his own to throw in the sink. "I think you've had enough of this for one night, _Hermione_."  
  
"Are you implying that I'm a lightweight?" Hermione asked furiously.  
  
"Not at all."  
  
Hermione grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. Snape was shocked when he found himself kissing her back as desperately as she was him. Her soft hair smelled of tea rose and peppermint. There was burning incense in the corner that clouded a thin blanket overhead.  
  
"Does this remind you of something?"  
  
Severus turned his head and almost laughed with irony as he found himself bent over backward with Hermione on top of him as they had been several years back. Hopefully things would go far better than they had back then. "Aye, it does."  
  
"You can touch me under my clothes. I promise when I cry out it won't be because you're scaring me." Hermione said with an edge of laughter in her voice.  
  
Severus wanted to touch her, but the situation was not something of familiarity with him. He had only bedded one woman and that had been in his seventh year at Hogwarts. His sex drive was roaring, but he was so hesitant at loving a woman twenty-one years his junior. She could very well be his child!  
  
"What's the matter?" Hermione asked holding his face in her hands. She searched his eyes for a clue. What was he thinking? Was he going to back away at the very last moment as he had years before? Those obsidian eyes had frightened more people away than they had invited. It was like tar waiting to suck one in and never let them out. She understood why students had preferred to look at his ear when they had to talk face to face with him. He had looks that would indeed deal death, or maybe even worse. "Severus?"  
  
"I can't do this."  
  
"Then we won't sleep with each other." She said, smiling and kissing him on the mouth.  
  
"Hermione. . ." She was leading them both to the couch. ". . . what are you doing?"  
  
"Sitting down on the couch with you." She didn't move to touch him. He almost wished she would. "I know how hard it is for you to be intimate with someone. Especially someone who could very well be your bloody daughter," Severus winced. She had worded it perfectly.  
  
He wanted her beneath him wriggling and moaning his name, but it wasn't right. He wasn't going to play the stoic gallant hero as he would have expected in a bloke such as Harry Potter. Always was the one to sweep the lass from her feet and kiss her senseless until she would have been glad to leave the famous Harry Potter if it would have made him happy. He knew he was not what the girls would call, "a heartthrob", but he didn't care. He had never gone out of his way to impress anyone and he wasn't going to go out of his way to protect a relationship between a silly girl and her infatuations. "You were too easy."  
  
She froze. He could see it in the way her back stood up straight, and her hands stopped moving on his flesh like many little worms on the warm earth, lying there, still as dry twigs in a silent dark night. "What?"  
  
"I'm an old man and I couldn't possibly have feelings for one as young as you, Hermione. You are a very intelligent young woman with a future ahead of her." Every breath he took was like a string constricting itself around his chest, making it harder and harder to tell her these lies. Of course he loved her; this was why he was doing this. He was using his sick leave to come see her and get this off of his chest. Nothing would ever happen between them if he got his way. He couldn't give her everything she needed and in all honesty he couldn't really stand her.  
  
"You don't kiss like that . . . respond like that unless you mean it, Severus."  
  
"And you know this from experience?" Severus snapped. Hermione jumped and stared at the floor as if she were in a trance. He watched her blank gaze dig holes into the carpet for what seemed like hours, but he knew were only mere seconds. She looked beaten. He got up from the couch and almost tumbled down the steps; his legs were trembling with the rest of his body as he tried to push himself from the little shop. "How do you open the bloody door?" He snarled as he shoved his body against the glass.  
  
"You have to unlock it first."  
  
Severus whirled around, back flat against the door. Her deadpan voice wrapped itself around his throat; her wet eyes seemed to bore into his soul. The white streetlights outside made her skin look deathly pale. He cleared his throat, "Thank you."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Severus turned from her and ran out the door, robes flying behind him as if they had a life of their own and enjoyed the rough caresses of the wind beneath its cloth. He didn't know how, but he could hear a woman's cries ringing in his ears growing louder with each step he took. All he had to do was wave his wand and the Knight Bus would take him back to Hogsmeade so that he could return to his dank quarters in the Hogwarts dungeon.  
  
He felt so empty. The stoic gallant hero he was trying not to be was molding itself into his soul. He wanted to run back to the shop and take her into his arms as if nothing would ever part them again but he knew that she would never forgive him. He had taken a piece of her heart from him knowingly to protect her from him. Why did it bother him so much? He had to admit it; Harry Potter was a man to respect if he did this on a month-to- month basis.  
  
_**To Be Continued. . . .**_


End file.
